


Bah Humbug & Sour Apples

by Oopsynini



Series: Apple Slices [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Family, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas Fluff, Christmas Miracles, Christmas Party, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Curses, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Grumpy Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mild Language, Post Mpreg, Slice of Life, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28234956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oopsynini/pseuds/Oopsynini
Summary: Crowley hated Christmas. The lights burned his eyes, the smells were far to pleasant, and if he walked into one more stray blessing he'd likely bite something. Then there was the gift-giving! It was such trivial rubbish and so greedy he couldn't imagine why the holiday wasn't one of his. Greed was a sin after all, and, standing in the shopping center, surrounded by holiday shoppers, he had no doubt that the whole lot of them were sinning. But 'Noooo', Christmas was a religious holiday!It was the principal of the thing, dammit!All Crowley wanted to do was make it through the festive nonsense with his sanity intact, and maybe spend a little free time with his family while he was at it.Aziraphale, however, had other plans in mind, for example party.If this whole Christmas doesn't go up in flames, Crowley will be very surprised indeed.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Apple Slices [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744975
Comments: 63
Kudos: 47





	1. Bah!

_  
_

_Apfel - 8 Months_

Crowley slouched forward in line, grateful for the sunglasses that covered his eyes and hid him mostly from sight. He was attempting to look off-putting, grinch-ish, one might say. It wasn't working, not with Apfel cradled in his arms, looking as charming as ever and seasonably festive in her tiny candy cane suit. 

He just needed to get in and get out, and maybe, he'd survive the day without being blessed by another one of these wretched holiday goers. The whole holiday was utterly confusing. The gift-giving was such trivial rubbish and so greedy he couldn't imagine why the holiday wasn't one of his. Greed was a sin after all, and that man rushing by with his bags of frivolous junk was sinning, but 'noooo,' Christmas was a religious holiday, Crowley! Why did he even try to go to the shopping center? It wasn't like he had a damn clue what to get Aziraphale, and Apfel was of no help in the matter.

According to her, Daddy would like a bonbon and some ribbons. She might be right on the bonbons; he'd picked out a dozen. However, none of this 20th-century drivel held any _meaning_. And, while he hated Christmas and the heavenly nonsense it stood for, for once, this holiday was special, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Just two more, and then we're off." He told her, nodding his head towards the line of four shoppers ahead of him. If one or two of them randomly had the desire to grab something else they needed, he wasn't going to complain. In fact, he was delighted indeed when a man with a trolley full of holiday riffraff suddenly cursed and dashed out of line. It made his tar stained soul gurgle with sinful glee.

Temptation accomplished.

Small fingers tugged at his chin, and he looked down, smiling toothily when he met a familiar pair of periwinkle blue eyes. 

"Yes, my darling pudding cup?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow. Apfel, tucked against his chest as she was, babbled cheerfully, stating something completely nonsensical as she pointed toward a dancing bear singing carols. Crowley raised an eyebrow. As usual, he was at a complete loss for what she was saying. 

It wasn't her fault, she tried her damn hardest to get her point across, but the lass had no grasp of any known language as of yet. Aziraphale found it terribly endearing. It was his life's goal to get her to say: "The baby burbled over babbling brooks." 

Crowley figured she'd probably need to get ahold of the basics first, though the two of them weren't exactly certain how that would go. She seemed to be progressing slower than a normal human baby, but not as slow as they'd both expected. Thank Whomever for that! He didn't know if Aziraphale could handle breastfeeding for centuries. Besides that, Beelzebub would start to become suspicious of the plethora of nappies Crowley sent his way.

"Oh, what a sweetheart. Father Christmas! Come take a peek at the darling!" Crowley groaned internally, lifting his head and drawing on whatever patience he had, as he was interrupted for the fifth time that day. 

This time it was some wrinkled old grandmother dressed up in a happy costume of red velvet and far too much faux fur. Walking up next to her stepped none other than Father Christmas himself. Oh, joy. Crowley forced a smile, because 'tis the season', and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"What a darling!" Father Christmas called in a boisterous voice that had Apfel jolting in his arms and giving the bearded wonder a glower fit to put him up in flames. Crowley cast a quick miracle, just in case. Best not to have Father Christmas writhing in agony on the linoleum on this, the seventh day before Christmas. 

A second later, he was grateful for the forethought as a stinging hex burned against the edge of the magic shield he'd created. He grinned, a sharp toothy smile at that. She was through and through his daughter. Even if she looked like an angel, she could be oh so naughty when she wanted to be. He couldn't wait until she was older, oh the chaos they'd create.

"And what do you lot want?" Crowley asked aloud, glowering between the two of them. Father Christmas tutted, looking distinctly uncomfortable. They were probably used to a warmer reception. Not today, cheery beasts. 

"We're walking about, giving the children a bit of Christmas spirit!" Mrs. Clause explained, her eyes wide behind her thick-rimmed glasses.

"Yeah, I can see tha', you barmy gits. Frightened the shite out of my daughter." Crowley snarled, turning his nose up. Christmas spirit, bah! Fat chance that. They both stood, utterly gobsmacked at the rudeness of him. But Crowley was a demon. He was allowed to be rude, relished it, in fact. He practically purred at the look of discomfort that came over her face and was pleased as a daisy when her Father Christmas took her by the elbow and backed away.

"Have a Happy Christmas!" The bearded man called hurriedly as if the very idea of not spreading the message was beyond him. Again Apfel startled. This time the curse felt something like boiled onions. Malodorous and viscous.

"Eww, love, that's foul," Crowley whispered against her ear, chuckling in approval.

"Here's a coupon to the Christmas Grotto." The missus offered, looking uncomfortable but stoic none-the-less as she offered him a slip of paper. Crowley snatched it out of her hand, if only so she would be off, and leave him alone. He was more relieved than he should be when they meandered on to greet a more agreeable family. 

The cashier waved at him, eager to see him off, probably. Crowley sauntered over before tossing the box of bonbons next to the till and waiting impatiently to be checked out. Beep. Beep. Ching. Snatching up the bag, he tried to look as intimidating as a demon holding an eight-month-old could, dodging spirited holiday well-wishers in favor of leaving, _now_. He was ready to get home and spend some time with his family. 

It was the principal of the thing, dammit! 

Add to that the gatherings. They made Crowley uncomfortable, the people even more so. Everyone was so damned religious on the day. It burned! He hardly appreciated stepping on random bits of sidewalk that had a little burst of holy power lingering there. Or accidentally walking into somebody's leftover 'god bless you.' He knew it was silly, but all he wanted at this point was a nice snuggle by the fire with his two favorite people, and maybe some strong alcohol, if Aziraphale would let him get his hands on it. 

"Lousy lot. Come on, kitten, let's get home before daddy gets suspicious." All that work for a box of bonbons and a couple of ribbons. Which meant he would need to go out again. Because no matter how hard he tried, he hadn't found a gift for Aziraphale. At least not a gift worth giving. Useless.

It was as he was walking towards the exit that he spotted it. One of those tacky little antique stores with cheap tourist drivel at the front but some older, more interesting tidbits in the back. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he mooed and hawed, considering if it was even worth a gander. Apfel took hold of his hair, tangling her fingers in the strands and tugging hard enough to pull his head sideways. That or lose the chunk of scalp.

"Oy! Get them grubby hands out my hair, sneaky lass. Fine, we'll go in. But just for a browse, and then that is it. No more of this rubbish." He heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes at the pleased expression that came over her face. Or maybe that was just gas? Hard to tell.

Stepping into the poorly lit shop, he bypassed the section of the shop that was made up of touristy knickknacks. Crowley nodded towards the cashier as he headed on his way to the back. Here was where the treasures hid. And while he wasn't one for dwelling in the past, that was practically Aziraphale's life memorandum. Aziraphale was old-fashioned, in the best of ways. He preferred styles and trinkets from a different era—the ying to Crowley's yang. Crowley paused to examine a worn tea set. The pot was cracked. The tag stated it was a mid-18th-century piece. But Crowley knew that era like the back of his wing. The style was maybe early 19th at best. 

"Charlatans, the lot of them." Crowley spat, waving a hand so that the proper date scrawled across the tag in dark red ink. That was better, even if he could appreciate the scam in some sense. Walking past racks of flutes and utensils, he turned the corner and came upon a small jewelry display. It held little hints and tidbits from the last several decades and even a couple of older pieces that might be a few centuries old. He considered them curiously. The earrings wouldn't do. Even when Crowley told him he would look quite fetching with an opal on each lobe, Aziraphale was highly opposed to the idea. Rings were fine in their own right, though Aziraphale already had a few, which he treasured above all else. He'd run out of fingers to put them on if Crowley wasn't careful.

And that's when he saw it—a familiar glint of sapphire, the iridescent glow of pearl. Nestled against cheap velvet was a brooch, startlingly familiar among all the meaningless trinkets. Bending at the knee, he examined it with a critical eye and a touch of magic. Smirking when the metal rang against his mind's eye with a certain familiarity. 

"Ah! All these years, and here it is." He hummed, tapping a razor-sharp black nail against the glass display cover. "Your daddy is going to like this, I think. You have such good ideas, my little poppet," Crowley explained to the red cap of Apfel's hat. "Shopkeep?!" When they chose to make an appearance, he bought and paid for it in full, though it wasn't lost on him that he was purchasing something that already belonged to Aziraphale. Humans were needy, and money was an imaginary construct anyway.

Stepping out into the blustery afternoon, both he and Apfel sucked in a shocked gasp of icy air. The snow had finally taken to falling while they'd been inside. It'd been threatening for a week. Which was odd, considering it was London, and there were higher chances of him running nude through the streets than it snowing on Christmas. 

The shivers lasted only a moment before a bubble of warmth pop around them, just a little bit of hellfire— one of the benefits of being a demon. Apfel cooed. She did so like hellfire. Thanks to her mixed blood, she was quite immune to its terrible side effects. His Angel, on the other hand, not so much. Crowley wouldn't have dared use hellfire around Aziraphale. Far too dangerous, that. Angel feathers were remarkably flammable.

"Come on then, let's get home." Strolling towards a back alley, he checked around for annoying humans, then poofed. They reappeared just a block from home, Apfel giggling at the tickling touch of miracle-travel as it released them out into a backlot. 

"You always like that bit, don't you, love." Crowley bounced her, looking around the drowsy neighborhood. No one was about. The snow had chased most everybody away. It hardly mattered for the two of them. Even now, the swath of warmth around them was melting the snowfall down to nothing. 

"Alright, then. Off we go. Papa wants to get home and hideaway with his two favorite people." He announced, trouncing down the street. The bookshop was right around the corner. He heaved a sigh of relief when he caught sight of its familiar facade. Home.

Double-checking his gifts were well hidden, he crossed the street, ignoring oncoming traffic with a flash of his lenses and a glower for the oncoming vehicles to desist. A blue Prius came to a rolling stop, and Crowley ignored the confused shouts of its owner behind him as he put heel to doorstep and ducked into the bookshop. Which promptly let him in, no key necessary.

He was greeted by dimly lit bookshelves and the scent of old book-bindings. An odd hint of cinnamon lingered in the air. That was...different. His eyes flashed around the room, checking to see if anything else was out of place. Other than that, all was normal and well. Closing the door and giving it a pat to encourage the building to lock up, he headed towards the back of the room and the stairs that lead up to their flat. Apfel bounced, eagerly clapping her pudgy pink hands together as he popped the doorknob and stepped into the room.


	2. Ick!

"Hello, my scrumptious marshmall-." Crowley called out, only for his tongue to stumble to a halt as he stepped inside their home. "What in tinsel ducking fuck is going on?!"

Aziraphale leaned back on a ladder, eyeing the wreath from where it hung above the fireplace and turning to smile in Crowley's direction.

"A bit of the Christmas spirit!" He exclaimed happily.

"A bit?" Crowley stared around the vastly overdecorated space of his once pristine living area, glowering at the twinkling lights. His home had been backhanded by the spirit of Christmas. Garland hung from the rafter, bright glimmering silver bells hung from that. Tinsel and ribbons and little frilly baubles hung from every imaginable surface. And there was a tree! A literal Christmas tree, bedecked with even more ribbon and matching ornaments. The amount of red, green, and gold tartan fabric was absolutely ludicrous. Though the bowtie Aziraphale currently sported was honestly very classy. It was so...festive. It made him sick, right down to his demon skin boots.

"This is a bit?" Crowley hitched Apfel up in his arms, gratified that she shared a similar look of dismay. Her snow chilled nose shining bright amongst all the frills and bobbles Aziraphale had laid out. Her eyes took in the lights with mild disinterest. She drooled a great big gob of mucus that hung off her chin and twinkled like it had dreams of being a light all its own.

"Yes, well, it is what the humans do...I thought it might be... nice." Aziraphale admitted, not seeming in the least bit dissuaded by Crowley's foul mood. Stepping down off the ladder, the grin on his cheeks widening as he saw his daughter.

"Hello, you! Did you have a good day with Papa?" He crooned, holding out his arms and eagerly devesting her of her blankets and mittens. He used the corner of a blanket to clean her chin. When her small knit cap popped off her head, her curls burst free with a puff of pink, the scent of baby tinging the air. Apfel was more interested in Aziraphale than the lights, a soft burble of contentment slipping out of her mouth as she fisted handfuls of his Christmas jumper, eagerly nuzzling his chest.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, sharing a look with Crowley. "She's certainly your child. Knows what she likes, doesn't she." He groused.

Crowley scoffed. It wasn't his fault she had good taste. He bent down, wuffling his nose against her hair. Her scent helped calm him, pulling him back from the holiday cliff Aziraphale was hoping to push him down. Stepping toward the fireplace mantel, he flicked a finger at a stray ornament, watching as the angel silhouette bobbed on its string.

"What humans are going to see inside our house anyway? It's not like we have anybody to impress." His words were met with silence.  He could practically hear Aziraphale blushing, and he tensed, spinning around to glare at the angel.

"You didn't?!" He hissed, his snake tongue tasting the air, the distinct tang of peppermint flavoring flickering across his tastebuds. Wrinkling his nose, he wiped the flavor off with the palm of his hand. 

For his part, Aziraphale looked only a little guilty as he kicked at the rug under their feet.

"Well, I thought it might be a lovely moment for Anathema and Newt to meet Apfel," Aziraphale admitted. Crowley groaned theatrically and screeched internally. There went all his plans for a peaceful, quiet Christmas. 

"And what will we tell them? That the stork brought her in on the northern winds?"

"And...there are the others. Adam, his parents, and the lot in Tadfield. Shadwell and Madame Tracy." Aziraphale ticked off on his fingers. "Warlock is probably missing us by now. It might be nice to have a bit of a party!?"

Crowley groaned. Horrible, terrible. What was he thinking?! She hadn't met anyone significant in her whole eight months of life. Why start now? What if they made fun of her? Or Satan forbid, decide she was a freak? Even worse, what if they didn't like her!? 

Head reeling with all too many worries, Crowley sought out and found the dark marble of his throne. It was currently bedecked in tinsel, but he ignored it in favor of slouching into it most dramatically. He felt his hips dislocate, but he ignored them. Stupid human spines. Useless.

Aziraphale pouted, following after. And dammit, didn't his arse look good in those trousers. Crowley glared at the expanse of it, considering if this was the appropriate time to deliver a good old fashioned spanking.

Nah, probably not. He would have to wait until the baby was asleep.

"I hate people," He grumbled, tapping long fingernails against the dark ochre of his throne. Aziraphale sighed, settling onto his lap and leaning into him. His weight was familiar and welcome, despite Crowley's current state of mind. "I hate Christmas. Bunch of bollocks is what this is."

"No, you don't, you like humans, and you loved Christmas last year!"

"Humans are boring. And last year, I had you laid out across the fireplace hearth, boinking you silly. Of course, I enjoyed that."

"I thought Madame Tracy was quite charming myself." Aziraphale tutted, a blush staining his cheeks as he nuzzled his curly crown up under Crowley's chin. Crowley liked to think he was blushing about being positively fucked beside the fireplace, and  _ not  _ about Madame Tracy. Ick. "And there will be presents and food and  _ drinks! _ Crowley, love, all the drinks you could dare drink, with alcohol in them." He persuaded, lying out his plans like they were some sort of Grand Design that would draw Crowley in. Pahh, not likely. "It doesn't have to be on Christmas day, of course. How about Boxing Day? Or any day before, really?"

Aziraphale's blasted eyes were doing that begging lopsided puppy routine that always pulled at his meager heartstrings. Crowley groaned, digging the back of his head into the marble of his chair. Not fair, not fair at all.

"Fine, there had better be alcohol. Ain't doing it if I'm not drunk off my tits." Crowley snarled, turning his gaze down to watch Apfel where she was snuggled up against Aziraphale's chest. She sneezed, loud, and unexpected. 

The angel ornament on the mantel took to fluttering about, wings shining in the firelight.

"Oh dear," Aziraphale watched the little critter spring about, sighing softly.

"I'll get it. Off with you, you festive twat." Crowley grumbled, bodily lifting Aziraphale off his lap and setting him on the throne. He miracled a broom in hand, twirling it about his wrist in a swoosh, all too reminiscent of the times he used to carry a sword. "We really have to work on this miracling nonsense before Gabriel gets on our wings again."

The ornament crunched under the power of his backswing, falling to the ground and twitching listlessly. Aziraphale jumped from his spot, lips turning down in a frown as he opened his mouth to speak. He was interrupted by a loud wail as Apfel cried, her sudden sobs drowning out whatever Aziraphale had to say.

"Wha'?" Crowley snapped his fingers. The sound of her bawling died down to a mewl, even if her face was still red with frustration. The little mouse just cried harder, the squeak of her voice high enough to break glass. Above him, there was a deep clash of thunder. Then it started to rain. Indoors. Specifically right above Crowley. He was drenched in seconds. Crowley gave an indignant yelp, trying to dodge the heavy drops.

"I said, maybe we shouldn't ruin her creations in front of her," Aziraphale answered, his voice louder than normal. He waved away the miracle, which reeked of heavenly intent, and burnt with the slightest hint of holy water. Aziraphale rocked her in his arms, crooning out a soft lullaby under his breath. Some old-world song about love found on a lonesome road. 

Crowley sighed. Well, didn't that make him feel like a right arse? Dripping profusely, he starred down at the ornament and bent to pick it up.

"Probably right, poor lass will develop a complex if we aren't careful," Crowley admitted, cleaning himself up with a thought as he bent a metal wing back into place so that it looked only slightly off-kilter. "Better?"

"Much better, it looks lovely. Though I would not be the one you need to apologize to, though." Aziraphale beamed, nodding his head. 

Crowley turned his head down to Apfel, who was red in the face and fit to burst. "Hey now, my little strawberry. None of that. Papa made it better." He crooned, taking her into his arms and placing a kiss on each runny, tear-streaked cheek. She hiccuped softly, gasping in a breath before calming in his arms. "I'm sorry, my love." He offered, dangling the angel in front of her. "See? All better!" 

There was the click of a camera shutter, and Crowley looked up just in time to see the camera Aziraphale was holding. He raised an eyebrow, looking between Aziraphale and the contraption.

"Another human thing?"

"What!? It will look lovely on the mantel, will it not? Besides, darling, it is so hard to get a kind picture of you. You are always so dark and brooding. You are utterly horrifying most of the time unless you are looking at her."

"Oh, bah, keep your compliments to yourself, and come here, you sexy little crumpet," Crowley commanded. Aziraphale grinned, clapping his hands together cheerfully and setting aside the camera to do as requested. Crowley couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, dragging the angel in for a hug until the three of them were snuggled up together tight.

Family.

"Does this mean we can have a party?" Aziraphale requested, hopefully. 

"Ugh, yes," Crowley sighed. Aziraphale squealed, stand on tiptoe to kiss Crowley on the lips. "Don't make me regret it, though. There will be no talk of holy nights, or little drummer boys, and certainly nothing mentioning Her or Her Spawn."

"Deal." Aziraphale held out his hand, and they shook on it. Crowley hissed in annoyance, he was a demon, and deals were part of the schtick, but he had a feeling he'd come to regret it.


	3. Scrooge!

The air was a cozy heat, rich with warm undertones of cinnamon and a hint of eggnog that wafted merrily from the mug of cocoa by his side. Aziraphale was snuggled up and buried under a mound of blankets, one of which sported a pattern of leaping bunnies. In his hand was an old book, the cover a deep-toned red leather. This particular book was one of his favorites, considering the time of year. Though he'd be remiss to admit it, he'd coveted this book since it was first released on a sleepy winter's day in 1843. The cover still had its intricately embossed filigree work, and the gold leaf had neither faded with time nor diminished in shine over the decades.   
It was five days until Christmas. A Christmas Carol seemed very apropos.  
"Ghost of the Future, I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?" A sound interrupted his retelling.  
Aziraphale tapped the cover consideringly as his eyes rose to look at far more precious treasures. His family, mismatched bunch that they were. Crowley was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed, looking lovely as ever in pair of brooding black trousers and a rich red jumper. The chunky knit neckline was hanging off one tan shoulder and exposing a tantalizing hint of skin. He was framed by the dark green twigs of the tree. At his feet were rolls of wrapping paper laid out in shambles. The presents the two of them had collected for their guests leaned precariously in a pile, waiting to be wrapped.  
At Aziraphale's side was Apfel, who was more or less sitting up, with the assistance of a very large stuffed pink llama and the plump swell of Aziraphale's thigh. Her pink curls shone glossy and bright under a soft knit cap. She was currently dressed for the season. Something Aziraphale had very much insisted upon. He loved seeing her in red and green. She looked positively adorable in a little tartan onesie and lace stockings. Her toes wiggling merrily.  
She was still attached to him at the teat. Which, Crowley reassured him, was common enough for her age, and even more so considering she was a mit bit slower at the whole growing thing. Aziraphale didn't mind. Every day he marveled at the little creation they had managed to somehow stumble into. Even now, the way her grey wings twitched and rose in interest was just the most charming thing he ever did see.   
Mouthing her binky, Apfel's wide blue eyes took in the flashy movements of her papa as he flailed around with the scissors, cursing under his breath. The toy in her hands was long forgotten in favor of watching the fiasco that was Crowley.  
If there was one thing Crowley did not appreciate, it was Christmas. Aziraphale understood. The poor demon was bombarded with so much cheer and good faith; his poor shriveled self could not cope with it. Of all the people who could apply for the position of Scrooge, it'd be Anthony J. Crowley.  
Add to it the party, and well...Crowley had taken to brooding, fainting, and when he didn't get his way, even shapeshifting every so often, just to make a statement on his opinion of the matter. It was so darned hard to lift him too when he turned all snakey and was nothing but limp coils of scales. Such a melodramatic demon, the bane, and joy of Aziraphale's existence.  
"He is a silly thing, is he not? So much fuss in such a skinny package." Aziraphale reached out and tucked a pink curl behind Apfel's ear, bending to press a kiss to one plump cheek. She turned bright eyes to glance at him but was otherwise too intrigued by Crowley.   
"I heard that. I'll glue your tongue, you traitor." Crowley growled, possibly muttering other dark things under his breath. Aziraphale could feel the curses bursting against his heavenly form. They tickled, with no real intent or omfph behind them. Aziraphale waved one particularly piercing curse away with a roll of his eyes.   
"Well, you are carrying on like a sour pickle. Really darling, if you do not wish to wrap the gifts, I am happy to do so." Aziraphale offered, flipping the page on his book and giving Apfel a moment to examine the words. "Ah, ah. No touching, dearest." He whispered, easing fingers that were sticky with applesauce away from the pristine page.  
"I said I would do it. A deal's a deal." Crowley scowled, folding one corner than the next. The folds were all crooked and overlapping. It looked horrid. Bless his heart. He was trying.   
"We do not make 'deals,' love." Aziraphale sighed, leave it to Crowley to take their little 'deal' literally. He would have to try and eliminate that word from his vocabulary if only to prevent further misunderstandings. "We are married! This is hardly one of your demon trades."   
Snapping the book closed and setting it out of reach on the nightstand, Aziraphale pushed off his covers. He double-checked that Apfel was securely tucked in and not liable to slide from the couch anytime soon. Not that he was too worried, she was wonderfully resilient compared to a human baby. It probably had something to do with being immortal.  
Next to the tree, Crowley cursed, his fingers flailing as they snagged on the tape and sent it reeling from the spool. A bauble from the tree was caught in the assault, the small red orb dancing on its hook.   
"Come on then, you will never finish at this rate," Aziraphale announced, dragging a blanket out of the mess to throw over Crowley's shoulders, shrouding him in grey and blue bunnies. "Hand them over." He held his hands out for the scissors, wiggling his fingers.  
"Fine." With a huff, Crowley looked up at him through the flap of the blanket corner, eyes a dark umber of frustration, fingers still trapped in strands of tape. Aziraphale plopped down beside him, laughing under his breath as he tried to disentangle Crowley's fingers.   
"You're utterly ridiculous." He teased, "I don't know how you've gotten on without me all these years."  
"I'd hardly call it "getting on without you." I mean, you've always been there for the most part. Give or take a few centuries," Crowley noted, his hair hanging over his eyes, which were starring very maliciously indeed at the unwrapped kitchen set they'd purchased. Aziraphale shook his head, taking Crowley's face into the palm of his hands and turning that glare away from the unsuspecting gifts before they went up in flames.  
A ticked off Crowley was a sight to behold. Venomous yellow eyes, brooding brow, and snarled fang. He was also ludicrously handsome, and Aziraphale couldn't help it if his heart took to thumping a pleasant staccato against his ribs.  
"Such a Scrooge, it looks handsome on you." Aziraphale teased a smile that took away any bite that might be misconstrued from his words. Poor fellow. Crowley was a slave to his creator, wasn't he? And no demon on earth had ever grinned while wrapping Christmas presents.   
It was a moment's thought to straddle Crowley's legs and all but pushing himself into Crowley's space. Automatically Crowley reached out, wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist until one wide palm supported the small of Aziraphale's back. It was unconscious, a move born from centuries of helping Aziraphale steady himself and his achy back. It also was not necessary anymore, but it did feel lovely.  
He still marveled at moments like this, which had become so much easier, now that there wasn't a little one growing inside of him. Only eight months ago, it would have been impossible to climb on Crowley's lap thanks to the bulge of his pregnant belly.   
Wrapping his arms around Crowley's shoulders, Aziraphale pressed a kiss to one pointy ear, then another to the corner of Crowley's mouth. Crowley jerked his head away, hissing his distaste, but he hardly took the protests personally.  
"You're not going to distract me, you prat. I hate all this holiday foolishness. No amount of kissing is going to change that."   
"That is what you say every year. It's never made you this fussy, though." Aziraphale reminded, brushing locks of hair from Crowley's forehead to better see him. It was the truth. Crowley always whined and moaned, it wouldn't be Christmas without a thorough bitching on his part, but usually, it was just for show. Certainly, there still was most of the back and forth gripping, the niggling grumbles of a malcontent demon putting on a show for the sake of it. Yet, get him in front of a fireplace on Christmas Eve with a nice glass of wine, and he'd even sing a carol or two. He had the voice of a goose, but it all was well and good.  
"We also never played at being humans either." Crowley snapped, barring his fangs in disgust. And didn't that sound like the root of the problem? Good, they were making progress. "I have no idea what we're going to tell them. And what if they...you know." Crowley glanced between Apfel and Aziraphale, his brow furrowing. Aziraphale followed his gaze, raising one eyebrow.  
"I'm afraid I don't have the faintest clue what you're implying," Aziraphale admitted, his words whispering against Crowley's stubble rimmed cheek, his lips pressing soothing caresses along the boney flesh there. It wasn't just his imagination.   
"Of course you don't, you're an Angel, and you're absurdly optimistic. You never think of what could go wrong. She almost zapped one of those humans dressed up as Father Christmas into oblivion!" Crowley exclaimed, waving a hand at their daughter.   
"You failed to share that with me..." Aziraphale could see where that might be a problem. But both he and Crowley would be there to watch her. As long as they were watchful, everything would be just fine.  
"'Course I didn't. You would have written the fat bloke a bloody apology letter. Besides, it's not just that..." Crowley sighed, leaning forward to settle his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder. Aziraphale hummed, waiting patiently for the emotionally constipated demon to get on with it. "She's the first of her kind...what if they don't like her? She's never met anyone who mattered before." Crowley's voice dropped to a low whisper, his brow furrowed down into a tight knot of discomfort.   
"Oh...darling." Aziraphale felt his heart flutter with some odd mix of emotions that varied from confusion all the way over to pride. "How could you ever think that? She's positively charming. She'll win over their hearts with one look!" It had happened like that for both of them. They'd been smitten at the very first sight of cherry round cheeks and perfect, doe-like eyes.   
"I just don't want her to get hurt, that's all." Crowley did not look convinced.  
"I know, and I love you for it," Aziraphale whispered, nuzzling his cheek. "Can you promise me you won't worry so much? " Aziraphale asked, turning his head to look into Crowley's beloved eyes.  
After a moment of consideration, Crowley seemed to cave under the pressure. With a soft sigh, he nodded. Turning his head and allowing Aziraphale to capture him with a kiss. He gave himself over to Aziraphale's gentle ministrations with a touch of lips to lips. Aziraphale encouraged him with a hand to the back of his head, tangling his fingers in the shorts strands of hair.   
They kissed, a soft and sweet coupling of breaths that had no desire or interest to turn into anything more than just comfort and love. Gentle flutterings of lips upon lips, followed by gasps of breath on Crowley's part. When they finally broke apart, Crowley sighed dreamily, the hazy look in his eyes a lovely change from the wrinkles of frustration he'd been carrying about the last few days.   
Aziraphale smiled, pressing one last kiss to his cleft chin.   
"Don't worry, darling. Remember, we are an angel and a demon. We saved the world. We made a beautiful baby. And we've been kicking proverbial bottoms while doing it!" Aziraphale reminded, clapping his hands together cheerfully. Crowley snorted, shaking his head and shoving at Aziraphale.   
"Honestly, you just made the last eight-hundred years sound so boooring. Have off with you."  
"Forgive me for not wanting to be vulgar. Now then, these presents won't wrap themselves." Scrambling free from Crowley's lap, Aziraphale settled down on the wooden floor.   
"They would if you'd just let me miracle them!"  
"Don't be daft. It takes all the joy out of it." Aziraphale snorted. The very idea!   
Apfel made a sound from the couch, and they both turned in time to watch as she promptly fell over, her grey wings flapping listlessly in an attempt to catch herself. Aziraphale sighed, the smile on his cheeks growing cheerily as he dragged himself away to help his little lady. She fit snuggly in his arms, a dense weight that Aziraphale found wonderfully comforting as he gathered her up, plump little bottom settling into the crook of his elbow.   
"What are you doing, silly. Trying to go for a bit of a fly?"   
"Clumsy little lass." Crowley offered, laughing outright, his voice breaking as he watched her turned her pudgy little face to glare in his direction. "How can she give me that look? She can't even stand up, but she can glare with the best of them!"  
"She learned it from you, no doubt. Did she really try to vaporize Father Christmas?" Aziraphale asked, jerking his head back as he was almost bopped in the face from a stray wing. "Ouch, darling, careful with daddy's eyes. Come on, let's help papa wrap some presents."   
"Yup. I didn't help the matter." Crowley wrinkled his nose disdainfully, taking Apfel from Aziraphale and placing her in his lap. "Satan, I hate the holidays."  
"Well, don't say it too loudly, or you'll rub off on her." Aziraphale sighed, taking up the scissors and setting to wrapping up the box of kitchen supplies. He taped it up daintily, with far more care than Crowley had been granting them, humming softly under his breath. It didn't escape his notice that Crowley took to playing with Apfel rather than help with the last of the gifts. It was more than pleasant, listening to the two of them giggling next to the Christmas tree, their eyes glimmering with delight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, I have never tried to post this many chapters in such a short time frame! It's driving me bonkers!


	4. Ha!

"Hurry it up, you!" Crowley called over his shoulder, stomping his way down the tinsel festooned halls. He strolled the crowds with purpose, his generally frosty demeanor scaring off anyone who happened to walk in his path. He was the type of demon that humans took one look at and thought, 'Oh, that chaps trouble.' And he was, depending on what company he kept. The fact that, for the most part, the humans kept a wide girth around his sour frame was not lost in him. It made things very easy indeed when it came to crowds.  
For Aziraphale, there was no such luck. Spinning around, Crowley sighed, watching as Aziraphale turned the corner. He was a damn shining beacon of light and happiness. As in, he actually shone, with a physical glimmer and a sparkle that the humans were just drawn to. They flocked and conglomerated from everywhere, just for that moment when he passed, and they could stand in his presence. All unconscious, of course, they could no more see Aziraphale's shine than a turtle or a piece of wood. No, that glory was reserved for his eyes alone. Crowley was used to these kinds of things. It didn't make it any easier to get places. He squinted through the dark shadows of his glasses, cocking one hip and pursing his lips as he watched the show.  
"Ah! Excuse me."  
"So sorry, just trying to get by."  
"Ack! I do apologize, allow me to-"  
Crowley couldn't help but gain a small amount of amusement from Aziraphale's trouble. The grin that split his lips just grew as Aziraphale drew closer, finally working his way through the group of people until he was close enough that Crowley's presence scared them off. Once the crowd split off, Crowley caught an eyeful of the carrier, and their little babe inside, where it hung by Aziraphale's knee, swinging dreamily.  
"Stop with your smirking, hellspawn." Aziraphale snapped under his breath upon seeing Crowley's expression, his lips pursed, eyes flickering up and down Crowley's tall frame. Crowley could see a note of appreciation, hidden away in their depths, eyes lingering just a moment longer than was proper. If he then posed a little more sensually to draw the angel's attention, who could blame him?   
"Not smirking." Crowley denied, smirking most smirkly.  
"You are a terrible liar." Aziraphale chuckled, offering up the baby carrier. Crowley took it in one hand, lifting Apfel to take a peek at her. He had to admit that the carrier was more awkward than carrying her, but it did a decent job of hiding her wings.  
"She heavy?"  
"Oh, hardly, but it's this darn corporeal form." Aziraphale huffed, bending to rub one knee. "If I had known how difficult this all would be, I would have picked one with longer legs. That carrier keeps bopping me in the knee! These crowds, too! It's like swimming through a school of fish!"  
"If you would stop emanating that glow of holiday cheer, maybe you'd get some peace." Crowley reminded, turning to start walking again, his pace slowing down so Aziraphale could keep up. They had places to go, people to see. Not his choice, mind you, but Aziraphale had been very persuasive.   
"Oh, am I doing it again?" Behind him, Aziraphale huffed, and Crowley felt a tug on his scarf pull him up short. Crowley raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to look back at Aziraphale. "Slow down, would you?" Aziraphale blushed, ducking his head and closing his eyes. After a moment, it became distinctly less difficult to see him. Crowley's eyes practically moaned in relief. Not for the first time, he was grateful for the invention of sunglasses.   
"Of course you are. You always do that when you're happy." Crowley reminded, taking to walking again. He dodged a trash bin, the sharp clack of his heels clipping against the linoleum.   
"Well...yes, I suppose so," Aziraphale admitted, and Crowley felt the soft caress of his Angel's palm as it slipped into his open hand, their fingers intertwining. For a moment, their eyes meet, and dammit if they weren't a couple of lovesick fools, grinning like idiots in the midst of a shopping center. Sticky...fucking...love.   
Aziraphale was glowing again. Crowley couldn't bring himself to say anything about it.  
"Come on, we're running out of time, and we have Father Christmas to see." Crowley shuddered at the thought. Aziraphale had discovered that pesky coupon this morning, and he just had to take advantage of the deal. It hardly mattered that they had a party to host in four hours. Nope. A photo with Father Christmas was a must! Or at least it was, according to Aziraphale. Crowley thought the sentiment was ridiculous. He could only hope it was a different human than the one he had run into the other day. Or things would get difficult.   
He could smell the Christmas Grotto before they had even caught sight of it. The hot smell of roasted chestnuts, sweet chocolates, and peppermints. There was chiming music in the air and the cheerful shrieks of children.  
"Oh, darling! They have chestnuts!" Aziraphale perked up, skipping ahead a step or two in his little brown oxfords. Crowley was tugged along after. He chuckled, leave it to Aziraphale to be distracted by food. He saw the vendor and nudged Aziraphale in the right direction. The shorter man didn't have the height to see that far.   
Together they plowed their way through the Christmas time rush, popping up on the other side just in time to stop Crowley from getting very nasty indeed at a large family that just refused to move! The little village scene was pretty, in that tacky way that human Christmas usually was. A faux cottage, complete with puffy polyester snow and artificial trees. There was a forest of candy canes and a couple of humans and in costume merrily waving to everyone. It was absolutely hideous. Crowley hissed at an elf that moved in to close, sending her skittering on to the next family.   
Apfel was positively delighted, a burbling giggle rupturing from beneath the hood of the carrier. Crowley jerked his head down, rolling his eyes as he watched her small feet kick enthusiastically. He supposed she was just a child but had hoped for better taste from his little beasty. Would it be terrible to encourage her to morph the whole lot of them into a bunch of toads?  
"Ah-hah! Here we are." Aziraphale crooned, popping in line at the chestnut vendor and releasing Crowley's hand so he could clap his own together cheerfully. The sound of his voice drew Crowley away from thoughts of further misdeeds.  
"Apfel, I can hardly wait until your teeth grow in. Not for the feedings, mind you, but you'd so love chestnuts!" He chatted happily. Crowley grimaced. Yeah, they'd probably regret ever wishing for teeth. She had the grip of a leech. He could only imagine what she'd be like if she had something to latch on with.   
Stepping up to the cart, Aziraphale glanced at Crowley as if to check if he wanted anything. Crowley just flicked his split tongue at him. No need for words. He was feeling too snakey for snacks today. A good old hot toddy, on the other hand...  
"Just the one, please." Aziraphale requested, chest-puffing happily as the warm cone of paper was handed off. They'd barely turned away from the vendor before the paper was being unfolded by delicately manicured nails. The way Aziraphale popped a chestnut into his mouth was ludicrously sinful. The moan of delight even more so. Crowley swallowed, watching the way his throat worked.   
"Ngk!"  
Aziraphale looked up from his treat, catching Crowley's gaze and immediately catching the intent behind it. Blushing strawberry bright, he leaned over to shove at Crowley with one rounded shoulder.   
"Oh, stop that, you. Come along," Aziraphale whispered, clearing his throat.  
They settled in a line of parents and children. All gathered and ready for a picture with Santa. Crowley leaned heavily on Aziraphale, groaning out in protest at the sheer length of it.  
"Sure we can't go home?" He pleaded, dropping his head down to Aziraphale's shoulder and letting the weight of the carrier take him down.   
"Stop being such a grinch, dear. You'll see in a bit." Aziraphale said, stoically accepting most of Crowley's weight. He was stronger than he looked. "Besides, it is what the humans do!"  
"It's what the humans do.'" Crowley mimicked, in his best Aziraphale impression, wrinkling his lips in disdain. "Fine, but could they do it a little faster. I'd rather be swallowed by Beelzebub than stand here another minute!" That was saying something too. Beelzebub had notoriously rank innards. How else did he attract all the flies?   
When they finally managed to make it to the front of the line, even Aziraphale had lost some of his luster. Despite the wait, he smiled prettily for the little elf woman who urged him into the merrily lit confines of the grotto.   
"Oh, isn't this exciting, darling?" Aziraphale called cheerfully. Crowley hoped he was talking to Apfel. He was too busy starring at Father Christmas, where he sat on his throne of lies. The same Father Christmas who they'd almost banished to the neither realm only days ago. The man recognized him too, judging by the slight scowl that twisted his lips.  
"Oh, bollocks." Crowley rolled his eyes. Father Christmas was giving him the stink eye. Crowley was responding in kind. Aziraphale glanced between the two of them, confused. When understanding finally came to him, he coughed.   
"Is this the same-"  
"Yupp-p."   
"Oh, bother. Fine than. Let me do the talking." He whispered, waving at the carrier so that Crowley would hold it up for him. Crowley did as requested and watched as Aziraphale eased Apfel free of her safety buckles.   
She was looking lovely in her outfit. Curls all in a row, instead of their usual tousled selves, cheeks clean and goo-free. Which was all you could hope for in an eight-month-old.   
"Alright, lovey. Be nice to Father Christmas." Aziraphale whispered in her ear. Apfel seemed content to look at all the glitz and glimmer, ignoring the man of the hour with a level of indifference that was far beyond her years.  
"And who do we have here!?" Father Christmas asked, his voice boisterous and deep. Apfel shifted in Aziraphale's arms, just as discomfited by his voice as she'd been the other day. No hexes, though, thank fuck. She might have some manners, after all.  
"This is Apfel." Aziraphale smiled happily. Crowley groaned. He looked just as eager and hopeful as the four-year-old sitting in cue behind them. In fact, he looked far more excited than Apfel, who was very intrigued by the enormous rocking horse that took up the back corner. "Darling, say hello." Aziraphale urged, turning her to face Father Christmas.  
"Ah! Happy Christmas to you, darling!" The dense dunce called as he reached for Apfel.  
Apfel took one look at Father Christmas in all his glory, cast her pensive glare about the tiny room, and promptly begin screaming her little head off. Suffice to say it went about as well as Crowley expected. Not well at all, actually. Father Christmas's beard began to smoke. The Christmas tree beside the faux fireplace burst into flames.   
The elves scream.  
The children cried.  
The chestnuts spilled across the floor.  
Crowley nearly toppled over, laughter making it hard to breathe. He did have the forethought to toss up a shield before any real damage could be done. Hurriedly he snatched Apfel out of Aziraphale's arms, just in case she decided to play with hellfire.  
"Oh, heavens! I-I- my chestnuts!" Aziraphale fumbled back, thanks to a tug on his arm. Crowley wrapped an arm over his shoulders, carefully steering the angel backward towards the door.  
"Time to go," Crowley gasped through his own tears, laughing even harder when they almost fell over some stray chestnuts. Aziraphale was looking at him like he was a madman. Maybe he was, but Satan, that was one for the books. In his arms, Apfel giggled as well, wings flapping merrily. She seemed very pleased with herself, "Oh god, ha! Best Christmas ever!" He managed to gasp out.  
"Shouldn't we do something?" Aziraphale hissed, blue eyes flashing between Apfel and Crowley as if he just realized exactly who his family was. The fact that he was also smiling was a statement on how much the two of them had managed to corrupt the Angel.  
"Look, there's a fire extinguisher. It'll be alright. The humans will take care of it." Crowley ushered his family away from the ensuing chaos. Stopping by the vendor to get one last cone of chestnuts, so Aziraphale would stop pouting.  
"You two did this on purpose." He whispered through a mouthful of the morsels. Mollified, but still pouting despite the snack, "All I wanted was a picture with Father Christmas."  
"Oh, don't pout. I'll dress up as Father Christmas. At least if she sets me on fire, I won't cook like a prime roast." Crowley offered, shifting Apfel on his hip and the carrier into the crook of his arm. Aziraphale huffed, but that seemed to win him over.   
"You'll wear the hat?"  
"Yes, I'll wear the hat, now eat your fucking nuts, you brat."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I should have known better than to think I was going to get anything done during Christmas! It's a bit belated, but here's the next chapter. And since it is after Christmas, and all, there's really no point in dragging it out, so I chopped off a chapter. I'll post the final chapter later this week!


	5. Oh!

Four hours later, and Crowley was back in Christmas hell. And he was loathing it. The doorbell rang, and it began, his last day on earth to be taken seriously as a demon of any repute. They couldn't all arrive at once and get the evening over with. Instead, each guest meandered in on their own timeline, dragging out the holiday greetings until Crowley thought he might explode. Finally, unless Aziraphale had lied to him, the last guests arrived. 

"Oh, look, it's Santa Crowley!" Anathema laughed as Crowley opened the door, looking him over from head to toe. It was his turned to answer the door. As it turned out, it'd been his turn more often than not. What with Aziraphale playing gratuitous host. He was a fucking disgrace of a demon.  


"Lose a bet?" Crowley didn't know what he was expecting when he opened the door to reveal Anathema Device. It most certainly wasn't a hug a mile wide and a soft crow of delight as she took in the gleaming bookshelves of the bookshop. 

"Something like that." Crowley groused, straightening the labels of the tight-fitting frock coat before urging them inside. A promise was a promise. Besides, he thought the red velvet looked very fetching. He'd modernized it up a bit. The beard and greying hair were out but otherwise kept his promise. The hat on his head was very annoying, and the fur bobble on the tip kept slapping him in the face if he turned too quick.

Anathema breezed by, shivering from the night's chill. Gone was the girl who struggled to live under her family's legacy. In her stead was a smarmy little wench, with a spirit for crisps, based on the bag in her hand, and smile gleaming cheek to cheek. She was also very much pregnant and had quite the glimmer in her eyes. 

"Sorry, hungry." She said by way of explanation, hurriedly stuffing the bag in her pocket. There was very little room to be had, and she grunted with annoyance, finally just handing it off to Newt, who entered behind her, feet slipping on the icy doorstep. The clumsy git.

"Got yourself a pea in the pod, then?" Crowley questioned, raising an eyebrow and waving his glass of wine in the general direction of her navel. She blushed, reaching for Newt with a roll of her eyes. 

"Good to see you, Crowley. Charming as ever." She snarked. Newt snorted under his breath, reaching out for a firm handshake, which Crowley just ignored because he had a glass in one hand and was holding the doorknob with the other. And no, he wasn't being rude. It was just practical.

"Something of a surprise, you might say," Newt admitted, tucking his palm into his trousers awkwardly. 

"Ah, been there. Done that." Crowley chuckled, glaring at the drifts of snow that were trying to smother the entryway. Newt looked confused, raising an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't comment.

"Crowley! Stop terrorizing the guests!" Aziraphale called from the stairwell, his voice trilling over the soft symphony of Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker. Crowley had snuck some treasures from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra in the mix, but those wouldn't kick in until an hour from now. Hopefully, it would horrify the heavens out of Aziraphale and be a fantastic excuse to liven up what was sure to be a trash fire of a party. 

"Right, you two, Happy Christmas, let's roll." Crowley twirled a finger in the direction of the staircase, marching past the columns of books. The bookshop was looking remarkably put together. All the books were alphabetized, and the shelves polished. All the ducks in a row, as it were. Maybe there were miracles at Christmas because Aziraphale had even dusted the day before. Crowley could inhale without choking on a dust bunny.

He paused only briefly to let Anathema shriek over The Grimoire of Adrastea Eirene, where it sat on display. Aziraphale was in the midst of transcribing the handwritten book. Crowley had gifted it to him some decades ago, and the binding was starting to fail. 

"Don't touch, witch. It's fragile, and Aziraphale will have my head." Crowley ordered, tapping his fingers against the podium the book currently rested upon. He let her hover, chuckling when the girth of her belly bumped against the podium. "You know this book should have burned on her passing, but sticky fingers and whatnot." Anathema hummed, reading through the top page eagerly. 

"Love, we have a party to get to." Newt reminded, his eyes amused as he gave her a shove. Crowley took that as his cue and headed for the stairs taking them two at a time. 

He could hear the laughter of the rest of them as he crested the landing, and he couldn't help the small smile that turned up the corner of his cheeks at the sound of children playing. There was the sound of a camera shutter clicking. Aziraphale had insisted on documenting the whole event and had enlisted the children's help in doing so. Adam and his gang ran past shockingly quite, for how many of them there were. Warlock chased after, not far behind, despite being new to the group. He'd joined in their games happily enough. Children, so adaptive. What they were up to, Crowley hadn't a clue. Probably something devious or dastardly. Hopefully, it didn't involve anything too fragile. 

Not that he'd admit it aloud, but he'd missed those sounds. More specifically, Warlock's joyful timber. The latch of a tiny hand slipping into his own and gripping tight, like he meant something. It had been so different, their life before the almost apocalypse. Nanny Astaroth, Brother Francis, and Warlock. They'd contacted him as soon as they could after discovering he wasn't the antichrist. It had been hard to explain everything but Warlock had reacted remarkably well to the whole thing.

As for the rest of the children, it had been simple enough to persuade the parents to go out for a night on the town. Most of them were too happy to have someone else babysit what was usually a very rambunctious crew. The children's odd silence was broken moments later by the sound of holiday crackers popping, which had everyone in the room jolting. 

"Put on your crowns, lads!"

"And ladies!" Pepper corrected.

"Lads and Ladies!"

"And Others!" Aziraphale called from the kitchen. The children broke out in laughter, disappearing down the hall. The scent of warm bread doused the air in an icing of comfort, wafting its way from the kitchen's opened doorway. Every available surface was covered in trays of nibbles and treats. Some for adults, up high. Others just for the children down low. 

"I'm afraid the goose isn't quite ready," Aziraphale admitted as he carried out a tray of baked treats from the kitchen, head bobbing to the music cheerily. He'd decked the flat with various sitting chairs. Not a single one matched, but they all shared a comfortable demeanor that said matching hardly mattered. Their guests were in various states of lounging. Newt prowling off after a tray of savory biscuits and cheese.  


"Presenting Lady and Sir Pulsifer," Crowley announced in his best high court accent, hurriedly waving towards Newt's retreating back as he settled down in a chair to munch.  


"Pulsifer-Device. If we were married, that is." Anathema corrected, Newt toasted to that, waving a cracker in agreement before stuffing it in his face.

"Agh, if it isn't the witch," Shadwell grumbled from his seat by the fire, raising his glass in greeting. He didn't sound as put out as he usually would, considering his day job. Prejudices skewed after helping to save the world with your mortal enemy. Madame Tracy looked a little peeved, though, and she glowered at him from behind her glass of sherry. She had a paper crown on her head and a scarf that looked like a garland around her neck.

Aziraphale called out a greeting to Anathema, gasping in shock as he caught sight of her very pregnant self.

"Oh, heavens, look at you!" He grinned over the tray of croissants. Anathema blushed, smiling shy and proud. There'd been one point where Aziraphale had smiled like that. Satan, he was getting all gooey. Ick...

Turning away before he dissolved into a useless puddle, Crowley made his way over to Shadwell. This man he was used to. They'd known each other for decades. "Sergeant." He nodded, soaking his rump beside the fireplaces flickering flames. "How's Witchfinder Major Pepper doing these days?"

"Oh-ah!" Shadwell sputtered into his eggnog. "Tiptop, sir. Rearing for more work, mind you. But isn't that the way with all the lads?" Jobs were sparse nowadays. Crowley hadn't found much use for the Sergeant and his army with hell lying low and heaven licking their wounds. 

"Oh yeah, well, I've got my feelers out. Hear some troubles brewing in...Liverpool." Crowley groaned internally. Liverpool? Whatever happened in Liverpool? Shadwell's eyes lit up, and the look he shared with Madame Tracy was gleeful. 

"Is it-" He leaned forward, casting a furtive eye towards Anathema. "Witches? The bad kind?" 

"Quite possibly." Crowley winked conspiratorially. Ugh, the Sergeant and his witches. Even after finding out the whole lot of them weren't bad, he was still obsessed.

"Crowley dear, would you mind-" Aziraphale called, drawing Crowley's attention, but Crowley barely caught the words over the soft sound of Apfel's intrigued wail. Jerking his head up, he glanced towards Aziraphale. Their eyes met for a brief moment. Aziraphale looked calm and collected as always. Only the twist of his fingers on his wedding ring gave away his discomfort. Meanwhile, Crowley was panicking inside. She was finally up from her nap. The calm before the storm was over. 

"Ah, be right back." Crowley hissed, desperately gulping the rest of his drink down. A little liquid fortitude was much needed. Crowley ignored the sudden silence that spilled down through the room as everyone turned towards the sound of the baby. 

"Aziraphale, what was that?" Anathema whispered from her spot next to the angel, her hand brushing her tummy. She knew. Of course, she knew. Agh! Mothers. Dashing away from the expectant silence, he hurried down the hall to Apfel's room. He wasn't running away, just giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. The party had been Aziraphale's idea in the first place. Leave it to him to figure out how to explain the complicated bits. Crowley practically fell against Apfel's door, crooning out a greeting when he caught sight of her in all her sleepy glory, where she peered up at him from the edge of her cot.

"Woke up, did you. I was hoping you'd sleep the whole way through." Crowley admitted, leaning on the door frame. She looked lovely. Satan, he hoped they liked her. He banged his head against the wood. Why did this have to be so damned difficult? And why was he worrying so much?! When had he ever cared what other people thought?! 

Apfel made a demanding sound, lifting her hands to be picked up. She didn't seem to be put off by the Father Christmas outfit. Thank Satan for the little things.

"Right, get on with it, huh?" Stepping into the room, he moved around the toys on the floor and crouched down beside her. "Did you have a nice nap, strawberry?" He asked, peering inside. She'd been more than a little exhausted after their eventful morning. A nap had been well earned, and Crowley had almost considered joining her. She peered up at him, yawning drowsily before offering a gummy smile. 

"Come on then, let's fix you up." A few strokes of a comb and a nappy change later, Apfel was looking good as new. He checked her feathers for tangles and gathered her up in his arms. She weighed close to nothing, and yet the heft of her was comforting in his arms. With a thought his own wings burst free from the ethereal plan, carefully enfolding them in a shroud of darkness. Apfel gurgled her approval, fingers tangling in his primaries. For just a moment it was just the two of them. Warm, comfortable, and safe. Apfel radiated a glowing touch of hell heat, sensing his discomfort and soothing him the only way she knew how.  


"Steady now." He breathed, taking a moment to calm his speedy heart. For a thing that shouldn't exist, it was smashing in his chest something awful. With pinched lips, he straightened his shoulders, hiding his wings away, and walking back towards the gathering.

"Are you telling me you were  _ pregnant _ while trying to save the world?" Anathema was asking as he walked back into the room. Oh good, they'd gotten past all the long bits.  


"Well, um...yes?" Aziraphale twisted his fingers, glancing from Crowley to the rest of the room. Apfel cooed, waving at her papa and drawing the group's attention. Everyone's heads turned toward Crowley, a shocked gasp filling the silence. Crowley had to bite his lip to stop himself from saying something snarky. Most of the lot of them were stunned silent. Only Madame Tracy and Adam looked unsurprised. The first just clapping her hands happily, the second grinning ear to ear, like he knew some secret that no one else did.

"Oh, I knew it!" Tracy laughed, shaking her head and standing up to look Apfel over. 

"What?! How could you possibly have-" Aziraphale protested.

"Oh, silly boy, we shared a body, of course, I knew." She scoffed, bending down to look the baby over. "And what is her name?"

"Apfel." Crowley croaked, mildly surprised that he wasn't being mobbed at the moment. 

"And you?" Aziraphale turned to Adam.

"Comes with the territory." Adam shrugged, Aziraphale sputtered softly, patting his waistcoat and looking a little uncertain. 

"She's gorgeous." Anathema cooed, coming in close. That was enough to break the stillness. Whatever else Crowley had been expecting, it wasn't to be swamped by the whole horde of them. They oohed and awed over her. The children seemed particularly smitten with her wings. Crowley took care to keep those out of reach. Apfel reacted with a surprised burp, wide eyes taking in the various visitors with a smile on her cheeks. Of course, she'd eat up all the attention, little hellspawn. 

"How many nipples does she have?" Shadwell asked from the right, looking mildly perplexed but accepting of the situation nonetheless. 

"Jack!" Madame Tracy snapped, her elbow finding its way into his rib-cage. "How rude! Ignore the lout, and hand her over to Auntie Tracy." She demanded. Crowley doubled checked with Aziraphale to make sure it was alright. He was smiling with relief and nodded his head willingly enough. Taking that as approval, Crowley handed her off. 

"Careful with the wings." He croaked, eyes watering, probably from the fireplace smoke. Apfel transferred her grasp to Tracy's scarf, squeezing the wool tight in one hand and yanking at the strands experimentally. They bobbed together gently, as Tracy explored Apfel's little body, cooing over round cheeks and her button nose.  


It was odd, seeing her with somebody other than Aziraphale.

"She looks like a doll," Pepper whispered, peering up at pink curls.

"I still can't believe you kept this quite the whole time," Anathema added, sighing happily as Apfel took to holding her finger, gripping it in tiny little hands. She had a strong grip. If Anathema weren't careful, her finger would go numb soon.

All in all, it was far more positive than Crowley had been expecting. Not even a hint of drama.

A soft touch to the small of his back had Crowley turning just as Aziraphale pressed in against his side, snuggling up happily.

"See, I told you all would be well." He whispered against Crowley's chest.

"You did." Crowley gave him a squeeze, relieved beyond words.

"You look quite fetching in that costume, by the way." Aziraphale's posh voice purred. Crowley chuckled, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh, do I?"

"Don't get a head about it."

"Hard not to." Crowley teased, watching as Warlock wiggled in close to take hold of one small stockinged foot. His smile was shy and uncertain. Apfel seemed to sense it because she dropped both Anathema and Tracy, reaching for the young man. Crowley had to wonder if she recognized him from all those years they'd spent together. Warlock crying against Aziraphale's belly, lamenting the usual sufferings of childhood. Warlock hanging off one hip, legs cling around hips growing far too wide for comfort. Besides Crowley and Aziraphale, Warlock probably knew Apfel the best, in some backward sort of way.

"Come along. We should pass out the gifts while we wait for the goose." Aziraphale whispered, sniffling softly as Warlock took Apfel in hand, gathering her close to his arms. Crowley looked at his face and saw a suspicious glimmer of tears. Somehow he knew his Angel was thinking the same thing. Sentiment, how odd. 

Upon hearing the word 'gifts,' the children squealed in delight, all but Warlock rushing towards the tree. There, under deep green fir bows, hid presents for the whole company. Piles of silly riff-raff decorated with ribbons and bows. It was just more of that frivolous human nonsense. Though somehow, Crowley couldn't quite bring himself to be as scornful of that as he had earlier in the month. The joy in the children's eyes was enough to banish any poor feelings he might have on the matter.

Apfel was immediately forgotten in the descending chaos.

Aziraphale took up prime spot on the throne, so Crowley settled down at his feet, one leg crooked as he lounged lazily against Aziraphale's crossed knees. Almost as an afterthought, Aziraphale reached out and plucked the hat off his head, twirling his fingers through Crowley's auburn locks. 

Warlock sat on the floor, legs crossed, Apfel settled into the crook of them, comfortable and curious as she watched everyone gather round. 

The tree was just within reach, so Crowley handed out the gifts according to the names on the tags. They'd picked them out together, deciding on what to get everyone mostly by instinct. Crowley could barely recall what each person received, but everyone seemed pleased as they ripped into the paper. 

Pepper shouted to the stars as her careful unwrapping revealed a science kit.

Shadwell crooned over his bottle of 1965 Whisky. 

"How did you know?" Anathema gasped for joy at her cooking set. 

Warlock almost sobbed at the framed photograph of the three of them together, standing in the garden. He was a child of money. Sentiment had felt like the more important gift at the time. Crowley was pleased to see he was right. 

Apfel was looking particularly put out, where she sat watching everyone open presents. So Aziraphale took over, gathering her up to let her open up a gift. There was plenty for Christmas day. One gone wouldn't hurt any. Her tiny fingers hardly had the dexterity to wrangle with the paper, so Aziraphale helped, smiling happily as she finally managed to unwrap it. The fluffy, plush bunny inside matched her hair exactly and was just big enough to fit in her hands. She giggled at the sounds it made, smile wide with happiness. Crowley watched, enamored at the sight, his head cradled in hand, his belly warm with alcohol, but not to so much to be drunk off his rocker. All the while, Aziraphale's fingers did that thing to his hair. Comforting and gentle. 

After a bit, Aziraphale urged Crowley to open one of his gifts. Crowley grinned when the ribbons and papers revealed a couple of packages of rare seeds and a new plant mister with his initials engraved on it. His Angel knew him for too well. In return, he was far too eager to wait and quietly handed off the smallest of his gifts.

The brooch. He could see, from the way that Aziraphale's brow wrinkled. That the other man could feel the familiar touch of something he had once treasured. Uncertain, Aziraphale pulled on the ribbons, unwrapping the papers to reveal the pale jewelry box beneath.

"Crowley...what is-" The soft intake of breath as he lifted the lid was enough to make Crowley's heart hammer in his chest. In the Christmas lights, the pearl and sapphires glinted, bright and familiar. It was the brooch. The one they'd lost so many centuries ago, in a silly romp on a hillside. After so many years, it was remarkably undamaged by time.

It was Aziraphale's turn to cry. He sniffled softly. Turning his face away from the group, who were more or less busy with each other. Moving onto his knees, Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders, smiling ear to ear. Apfel swayed in Aziraphale's lap, as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Crowley's cheek.  


There was the soft click of a camera shutter. Crowley rolled his eyes.

"You remember it?"

"Of course, I remember it. You silly man." 

On the speakers, Trans-Siberian Orchestra's Christmas Eve began to play. Aziraphale perked up, turning his head to listen.

"Oh, I love this song." 

"Oh, bug off, of course, you do." Crowley laughed, casting a glare over his shoulder towards the speakers. 

After that, the night wore on, the party lasting well into the evening hours. It was wonderful. Warm, and cozy, and everything a Christmas party should be. Crowley supposed he should have been a little pissed off, or at least peeved at the jolly cheer trotting around in such abundance, but he wasn't. Why bother? It was fun, his family was happy, and there was a goose to be eaten. 

Later that night, after the dishes were done, and the party-goers were all sent home. Aziraphale settled by the fire, sighing with contentment. The party had been everything he could have possibly wanted. Full of fun and games, good food and even better company. His soul felt bright and full of love in a way every angel would be positively envious of if it were not a sin to be so. He was glowing, and he knew it.  


"It was lovely, was it not?" The sound of Crowley returning from putting Apfel down to bed had Aziraphale humming dreamily.

"Wasn't too bad," Crowley admitted, stepping into the firelight. Aziraphale looked up, blinking at the sight of his demon, mouth falling open in a soft 'o' of surprise. Crowley had been dressed as Father Christmas for the whole evening, but this, this was different.

"What are you wearing?!" Aziraphale asked, sitting up from his lazy sprawl on the throne. Crowley looked positively delicious, which was entirely too confusing, considering he was supposed to be Father Christmas.

"What, you don't like it?" Crowley spun about, grinning wickedly. The firelight gleamed across the red velvet fabric, glinting off a hint of buttocks where it peeked from underneath the short hem of a skirt.

"Oh, that is hardly the problem." Aziraphale swallowed hard, looking him over, "Are the tights really necessary?" Aziraphale groaned, watching taut legs flex under fishnet tights. He was wearing heels of all things! He towered over Aziraphale, so he had to crane his neck to see the dear fellow.

"Yes, very necessary," Crowley teased, bending to press a kiss to the tip of Aziraphale's nose. The bobbled on his cap bopping Aziraphale in the eye. The sound that left Aziraphale's lips was hardly intentional, a whimpering whine of desire. 

"Crowley..."

"Aziraphale." The snake purred, his tongue peeking free to hiss along Aziraphale's chin. His eyes were black in the dim light, just the barest hint of color shining around the edges. He looked deliciously edible, and even though Aziraphale was full, he thought he might have room for more.

"Come here," Aziraphale growled, wrapping his hands around slender lips and yanking Crowley on to his lap.

"Happy Christmas, Aziraphale." Crowley hummed, voice sultry and content.

"Happy Christmas indeed." 

And after that, there was not much need for words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I might have cut a chapter, but in the end, it worked out, because this one turned out twice as long as it should have. 
> 
> And that's an end to a crazy year. I hope you all have a beautiful new year, and that we can get through all our hardships with a lot of love and maybe just a little bit of grinchiness!
> 
> Comments, kudos are appreciated. Bookmark the series to get updates on the next installments! The story isn't over yet!

**Author's Note:**

> This episode got away from me, I think. I'm not feeling at all festive this year, so I guess I'm shoving all my love for the season into this fic! It's gonna be a six-chapter beast. I'll post a chapter a day until Christmas, with a couple of double posts to make up for lost time since life has gotten away with me. 
> 
> Merry Christmas and happy holidays, or whatever you do or don't celebrate!


End file.
